


Evolution

by HelenVanPattersonPatton



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenVanPattersonPatton/pseuds/HelenVanPattersonPatton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploring the evolution of Mindy and Danny's relationship. New content while remaining within canon. Chapters will be posted in a non-linear timeline, but episode titles and context will be provided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1x24 :: Take Me With You ::

* * *

Don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise, even in a sleeping bag, the ground is a shitty place to sleep. Or attempt to sleep. There are rocks digging into his hipbone and, no matter how even it looked when they picked this spot, the earth under him is pitched and lumpy. Their bags are zipped together and Christina is sleeping peacefully next to him, her body radiating heat that he can't seem to absorb; he's been inexplicably cold all night.

Danny shifts slowly onto his back, the rocks still jabbing him in the sciatic. He glances in the dark over at Christina, the obscured lines of her face serine, and is amazed all over again how content she seems out here. It's so different from the shy, artistic girl he met in a crummy little pizza joint with the sheet of honey-colored hair she would use to hide behind.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to push down the nagging feeling of dread that's been festering in his stomach since - shit. He's been making an effort. He has. He's lying prostrate in the fucking forest for her, isn't he? Danny should have let that be enough. Why did he ask her to move in? And why the _hell_ did she say yes?

Danny tugs at the hair on his forearm and notices the way the pre-dawn light is changing the tent from a black void into a shapeless midnight-blue. She rolls over with a hum and doesn't wake when he gets up to put on his jacket and shoes. The air is chilly and damp and has a not unpleasant quality that is nothing like the city. Danny can smell the soot of the long-extinguished campfire and wishes he knew how the hell they were supposed to make coffee.

There's a short path near their site that leads to a few benches and picnic tables and a view of the lake, and he walks it for the lack of anything better to do. He'd sell a major organ for a cigarette right now.

"Hey."

Danny startles at the sound of her voice breaking through the quiet. Mindy's sitting on one of the benches a few feet away, an over-sized flannel shirt wrapped around her, those preposterously large glasses making her eyes even bigger when she looks at him.

"Hey. What are you doing up this early?"

She shrugs and pushes the glasses up her nose with the palm of her hand. "Same as you, I guess."

"Tent living not as great as you thought it would be, huh?" He smirks as he sits down next to her. Danny's just giving her a hard time - and, well, maybe he's unable to keep from pointing out how, on a list of all the stupid, impulsive things she's done this one is near the top. Except a look flashes, only for a second, across her face that makes him think he hit a nerve. "Are you having second thoughts about -"

"What?! No. The tent - psh! The tent is amazing. Don't even know why I've been bothering with a mortgage so long. I'm up to - -" Mindy waves a hand in front of her, like he's supposed to fill in the rest, before stammering, "to - - to see the sunrise. The miracle of, you know - nature." She cuts her eyes at him. "Why are you up?"

"The sunrise, yeah. Same as you." She nods thoughtfully, like they're not both so full of shit.

They sit in silence, staring out over the water, and Danny's eyelids feel heavy. His jaw pops when he yawns, tears coating his eyelashes as his eyes squeeze tight. Mindy shoves on his shoulder, and he blearily sees the back of her hand trying to stifle her own yawn when he glances at her.

"Okay, I admit it - this is the worst," he says. "Why do people do this? Voluntarily! I've slept better propped against a wall when I was doing my residency."

"I think I'm sleeping better right _now_."

"Ha!" he grins at her. "I knew you'd never get up to see the sunrise unless you were forced."

"Fine." Mindy groans and rubs a hand across her brow, shielding her face. "The last time I was this exhausted at dawn I'd partied the whole night before. And let me tell you, this sunrise would be way better with a Bloody Mary."

He looks at her closely for the first time since he sat down, somewhat expecting her to look haggard after a sleepless night on the hard ground. She doesn't. Maybe a little tired, but nice, her hair straight and draped over her shoulder, no make-up, and the plaid shirt looking surprisingly natural on her. For the first time he can actually picture her in Haiti. "Are you going to be okay there? Seriously."

"What? In Haiti?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, of course I am. It'll be different there; I'm sure it will. I'll be so busy, ya know, helping people and changing lives forever - like an angel bringing healing to the masses. I won't have time to worry about anything else. Casey will handle all that other stuff."

It sounds like she's telling the truth, like she really is okay with moving to Haiti. This is happening. She's leaving for a year and he and Christina are moving in together. He wishes he could have some of Mindy's blind faith. And maybe he can. If she can move to a third-world nation with a man she's only known three months then he can honor the vow he made when he and Christina stood before the priest all those years ago - even if it feels wrong.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asks, her voice soft. And, seriously, is it that obvious?

"I'm - perfect. I -" Danny takes a second, trying to form the words correctly, siphoning off optimism from the woman sitting next to him. "I asked Christina to move in with me."

"Oh."

"Oh? What's that mean? _Oh_."

"Nothing. It's -" she shakes her head, "it's none of my business."

Danny can't help but chuckle at that. "Not really, no. That's never stopped you before."

Her mouth falls open, aghast, and can't maintain it. "Okay, fine. That's valid. So - you asked Christina to move in with you. What did she say?"

"She said yes."

"Why?"

"Thanks for that, Min. You sure know how to -"

"No, no. Not why did she say yes, but - why did you ask her?"

"Oh. Um," he shrugs. Crap. Why did he ask her? "I just thought - well. I guess - it seemed like a -"

"Oh, my god. You don't know why you asked your ex-wife who you've only been on speaking terms with for a few months to move in with you?!"

"It was a show of good faith. Alright? I didn't think she'd say yes."

"Danny," she slips her fingers around his forearm, and admitting it, what his offer really was, combined with the way the warmth of her hand is seeping through the fabric of his shirt, is surprisingly calming. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to _do_ anything. Christina's going to move in. It'll be fine."

"You can't let her do that. It's not fair to her if you're having doubts."

"I'm not having doubts. It's just - it would happen eventually anyway. We're together; it's how it's supposed to be. It doesn't matter if it's too soon."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Then, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you."

They sit for a moment in the quiet, the sky light and the first orangey-yellow rays starting to peek out over the trees. Mindy doesn't move her hand from his arm and he has such a strange desire to take it in his hand instead.

"Danny, can I ask you something?" Her voice has a nervous tremor about it and it makes his heart beat faster. He wants to turn and look at her, but he doesn't.

"Yeah. Anything."

"Will you check my head for ticks? I just know they're _on_ me."

He smiles at her, her face scrunched in fear that he totally gets. "Come here." Mindy scoots closer, her back to him, and he lifts a wave of her hair and starts working the pads of his fingers over her scalp.

"Thank you. I feel like I've lost a lot of blood already. How soon can you detect the onset of Lyme disease?"

"You're fine. You don't have Lyme disease."

"Okay."

"Let me know if you get a weird rash, though."

"Danny!"

* * *

There are a bunch of unnecessarily large photos of him naked all over his apartment, hung just in time for everyone at the party to see. There's cutesy distressed furniture and potted plants and - sure, Danny may be crunching half a bottle of antacids a day and have the equivalent of an entire pack of cigarettes hidden throughout his apartment, but - everything is okay.

Until, in typical party-train-wreck style, Mindy turns down Casey's proposal and changes her mind about going to Haiti.

It eats away at him, all through the delivery, even after Mindy runs off to God knows where. She couldn't go through with it. It felt wrong and she was brave enough to look like a coward and make a complete fool of herself in front of a room full of people and lose Casey in the process. Because ultimately she didn't make the decision she thought she should, she made the decision that felt right.

Danny does it over the phone, waking Christina up, which he knows is an asshole thing to do, but he's a chickenshit and if he waits until he's done at the hospital in the morning he'll lose his nerve. He doesn't say he's breaking up with her, but he's pretty sure she knows him well enough that ' _slowing things down_ ' means it's all but over. Christina is oddly quiet and he can't tell if it's because she's angry or if it's more than that. They agree to meet and talk about it more tomorrow.

It doesn't feel like he thought it would. There is a huge sense of relief. Then there's also a feeling of failure that is sucking all the oxygen out of his lungs. The first time their relationship failed he could blame it all on her and her infidelity, even if that wasn't entirely true. Now it's all on him. It's crushing.

Mindy walks into the lounge and her hair is the most ridiculous thing he has ever seen and he hates it, truly, but she looks so happy and there is a deep breath in his lungs again. She laughs when he points out they have the same haircut now, and it's still so fresh, but he wants to talk to her about it.

"I told Christina that - I wanna slow things down, so . . . I think that's -"

Danny looks up at her and Mindy is nodding her head, her mouth pressed together, and she looks different than he's ever seen her. Not only the hair, something has changed in her countenance, and it makes him forget what it was he was saying. There's a smear of something on the lens of her glasses and he doesn't think about it before reaching, taking them off her face. "You got something there."

Honestly, it's only after he has his fingertips in her hair for the second time in as many weeks that he realizes the position he has put them in. He tries to explain, "There. There was just - a little schmutz." Only that doesn't sound like anything, and he should sit back. He doesn't and her gaze flicks down to his mouth and he involuntarily mimics that action. Oh shit. He wants to kiss her.

"Casey and I got back together."

"You did?"

"Yeah. So I'm going to Haiti."

There it is - the air gone again and his chest constricting. He has to quit smoking, even on the sly. Clearly it is diminishing his lung capacity. The way she's looking at him he knows he should say something, something nice and supportive like a friend does. All the normal phrases like, ' _that's great news_ ', or, ' _I'm happy for you_ ' are lies and he won't do that. So Danny settles on what he hopes this will be for her, "Good for you."

* * *

Danny and Christina place an offer on a house in New Jersey with a nice backyard and detached one-car garage two weeks after he receives his first letter from Haiti.

 


	2. 1x02 :: Hiring and Firing ::

* * *

Mindy still has the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. And, yeah, it hurts like a bitch, but it could be way worse. Ransom - or, Morgan, whatever - did a very nice job of patching her up.

She raises slightly from her reclined position on the sofa, solely so she won't dribble wine down her chin, and wonders how to milk this. Which, okay, even thinking that sounds terrible, but - yeah. How can she make this work for her? Dr. Shulman didn't stop her, giving her carte blanche after all to hire the new nurse, so that's something. Only, that may not be 100% to her advantage. A weird, tattooed ex-con is not who she had in mind. It was still a win over stupid, ' _Dr. Shulman doesn't trust your judgment and I'm better and smarter than all of you_ ' Danny Castellano. Prick.

God, it was satisfying tormenting him on the train home. It makes her face throb when she smiles at the memory. He is _such_ an easy mark. He probably _would_ be an abusive husband, too. Not physically - he's not a complete monster - but she bets he's the worst: hostile even at the best of times, cold, unemotional, probably a whole list of strange sexual hangups or odd fetishes. No wonder his wife left him. Mindy would put money on him being into super kinky and oddly specific sex stuff, then being wracked with so much religious guilt that he weeps and begs for absolution when he comes, or something. She can picture it. Which is gross. She needs to think about something else.

The phone vibrates on her coffee table and she sets her wine down to check it.

 

**Jeremy 10/04/12 - 7:10.01PM**

_Heard what happened. Thank you for taking the hit and saving my perfect nose._   
_You know my whole body hangs off this bone-structure._   
_Make it up to you with some nurse-ordered doggy-style? ;)_

 

Okay, that's - temping, actually - but, no, it's kind of a jackass thing to say. She gets punched in the face by crazy Beverly because _he_ didn't have the balls enough to fire her and then he asks for sex? No way, pal.

 

**Me 10/04/12 - 7:10.55PM**

_I would. But I think the blow to the face knocked some sense into me. Fuck off, Jeremy. For good this time._

 

She glances at the sent message and feels triumphant. A little triumphant. Maybe. _Fuck off_ could have been too far. He is convenient in a pinch...

 

**Me 10/04/12 - 7:11.47PM**

_But maybe later..._

 

Mindy drains her glass and stands up to get more, the wine combined with the pain radiating in her face making her skin hot, pulsing like an exposed nerve. Three short raps sound on the door, and for god's sake, he doesn't lack in confidence, does he?

"Jeez, Jeremy. I'm not doing you _any_ -style, just -" the words scatter like ashes on her tongue when she opens the door to find Danny on the other side. His face is scrunched in genuine horror and she wishes she'd checked the peephole before leading with 'doing it'. Might be worth it to see the disgusted look on Danny's face, though. "I thought you were -"

"Jeremy. Yeah. Don't - we're going to - just. No."

"Why are you here?" She doesn't mean it to sound quite so harsh, but she can't seem to keep the edge out of her voice. He just irritates the piss out of her of sometimes. And how does he even know where her apartment is? Stalker. Mindy crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

Danny looks a little perplexed, like he thought he'd receive a warmer reception, but that look doesn't last long. It's replaced with his normal emotionless stare. "Here."

He shoves a white plastic bag at her, the kind with the giant yellow smiley-face on it. It's the universal restaurant take-out bag and it might as well be a dozen long stemmed roses coming from him. Bizarre. It smells unfortunately great. "What is that?"

"Soup. Take it." He pushes the bag further into her personal space and it seems like he's trying to do something nice, only he has the same look on his face she would imagine if he were trying to rob her at gunpoint.

Mindy takes the bag from his and frowns, returning his stare.

"It's from this place near my apartment. Pork dumpling soup - soft, not too spicy. Good for when you're sick."

"Thank you." Still she frowns, because it's kind of a nice gesture. Danny shrugs and doesn't move, no turning back to the elevator or asking to come in. The whole thing is odd. "Why did you bring me soup? It's uncharacteristically nice of you. And I'm not sure I like it."

A smile slowly starts to break across his face, one that she's only ever seen a handful of times, and certainly never directed toward her. "I couldn't stop thinkin' about Beverly clocking you like that."

"And that makes you smile? God, Danny, I was right about you. You're such an ass. I can't believe you brought me fake-nice soup just to rub it in."

"No, no." He holds his hands up in an attempt to look innocent. "I just meant -" he shrugs again, smile still in place, "you know how to take a punch."

"Oh. Thanks. I guess." He shoves his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans, and for a moment he doesn't look so bad. He isn't scowling or doing any of that broody thing he does. Danny looks relaxed and shockingly normal. It was nice of him to bring her soup.

Manners. Right. Her parents taught her well, and she is clearly the better person between the two of them. "Would you like to come in?"

"Nah. I should go."

"Okay."

"I don't really want to be here when Jeremy shows up for your strange sex thing."

"Alright, just go. Get out of my hallway. My neighbors might start thinking I hang around with weirdos like you. Give me a bad reputation. Go. Shoo."

"I'm going." There's swagger in every slow step he takes to the elevator and part of her wants to throw the soup at his head. It smells too good, and he's not worth the mess.

Mindy says it again, because, you know, manners, "Thank you for the soup." She catches a glimpse of a smile pulling up one side of his face as the elevator doors slide together.

* * *

 


	3. 2x14 :: The Desert ::

* * *

" _There's no guestroom_?" Mindy says in what he can only assume she thinks is a whisper.

"No, just - _shh_." Danny bats her hand away where she's tugging on his sleeve and looks up from the backseat to see if his father is listening. He meets Alan's gaze in the rear-view mirror and cuts his eyes away. It reminds him of long car trips to visit relatives when he was a kid, before Richie was born even, and how his dad would keep an eye on him in the mirror. When Danny was pushing his luck and about to get in trouble there'd be that look, the one that gathered his eyebrows together and projected, ' _this is your first warning, kid_ '. It's a memory Danny hadn't thought about in twenty years and it makes his gut tight.

"Mindy, we unfortunately do not have a guest bedroom. But I would be happy to let you and Danny stay in my room."

"Yeah, you should take Dad's room. Then you both could have a bed," Dani pipes up from the front seat. The rapidly-fading light of the military installation catches on her glasses as she turns, addressing their father, "You wouldn't mind camping out on the couch, would you?"

Danny opens his mouth to object and is momentarily sidetracked by the realization that his half-sister is being raised like some hippie. She's probably never even been to mass. He silently vows to teach her at least the basics of the Commandments before he leaves.

"Thank you so much. That is such a thoughtful gesture, Mr. Castellano. Danny and I clearly aren't a couple and I have a boyfriend, so I think it would be inappropriate for us to share a bedroom, but that is so kind of you. I would be happy to take your room by myself."

"Excellent. I'll get you fresh linens when we get there."

Danny takes in their exchange with his mouth open, unsure why his father even suggested it when Mindy has done nothing but talk about Cliff since they've been here. Alan catches his gaze in the mirror again and gives him a sly, conspiratorial smile before tipping his shoulders. Wait, was he - did his dad just try to help him get lucky?

* * *

" _You can't take the room._ "

Mindy hugs her toiletry bag and folded pajamas tighter to her chest and scowls at him. "After everything you've put me through today - how much _money_ you've cost me - you are actually trying to call dibs on the bed right now?"

"No, not. No. Just - let him keep his room and you stay on the couch. I'll sleep on the floor."

She rolls her eyes and tries to push past him in the hallway to get to the bathroom. He blocks her and she glares.

"Just being here is too . . . and I can't with him, not in the same room. Just - I'll pay for all of your flight changes and tickets and stuff. I mean, I was going to offer to do that anyway. But. Please, Mindy. Stay in the den."

Her eyes are huge, the glare completely lost, and he hates this. He brought her here and he's grateful to not be doing this alone, he is, but he hates needing - this. Whatever this is. Emotional support is what he called it this morning.

She turns around and heads back down the hallway from where she came, and he can hear Mindy say something to his father, the sound muffled through the wall. A moment later she's back with her kit and clothes still clutched to her, and the handle of her rolling suitcase in her hand.

* * *

"Danny? Danny, I can't sleep. Are you awake?"

"No."

"Ugh. Don't do that. You are so lame."

"Go to sleep, Mindy."

"I told you - I can't sleep."

"Try harder."

"Gee, I never thought of that. Thank god you're here. If it wasn't for such wisdom I might never sleep again."

"You're especially grouchy in the middle of the night, you know that, Min."

"Actually, yes, I have been told that many times."

Danny smiles in the dark and adjusts the Navajo blanket under his arms. The floor is surprisingly comfortable, the thick-pile carpet making an okay bed.

"Can I ask you something?" she says.

"Shoot."

"Does it bother you that she's named Dani?" Mindy's voice is soft, as if that could lessen the impact.

"Um," Danny swallows and honestly doesn't know how to answer. He's spent all day trying not to think about it. From where he's lying he can see the length of her body closest to the edge of the sofa, her chest rising and falling evenly with every breath, waiting on him. "Yes."

"Danny -"

"Look, I know it shouldn't. It doesn't mean anything."

It's quiet for a moment, then he can hear her inhale deeply. "Well, it kind of does. Doesn't it?"

Of course it does. It's the only reason he can think why Richie didn't tell him they have a sister. "Like what? Like my dad was trying to replace me?" He hates how bitter those words sound.

"Kind of. Is that what it feels like?"

Danny blinks hard, his eyes burning. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well - thanks, I guess."

"Maybe that's not what it is, though, Danny. Maybe it was more like, I don't know, more like a second chance or something."

"Are you defending him right now?"

"No, I'm not defending him. Just something to think about."

"You think that in some stupid, new-agey way he was trying to make up for abandoning his first family by naming his new kid after me? What, you think he's going have another blond daughter and name her Richie?" He's clenching his fists and he might be close to yelling.

Mindy shifts onto her side and peers down at him and he swipes at his face. She's frowning, her eyes tender, and he thinks he should say something to apologize.

"Have you booked your flight back yet?" she asks.

"Uh, no."

"Okay. You said you'd buy my ticket - I'm holding you to that."

It's impossible to follow her train of thought sometimes. "Fine. Of course."

"Good." She rolls back away from him. "I'll just go back with you then. After the game."

After the - oh. The tight feeling twisting in his chest eases, coming a little unwound; she'll be there with him. "Yeah, right. I'll order our tickets in the morning."

It's quiet for a long time and he wonders if she's asleep. He doesn't want her to be. He wants to talk to her more, which is odd because there isn't anything he can think of to say.

Mindy's head peeks over the edge of the sofa again. "You think your dad would be mad if I ate some of the leftover potato chip pie?"

Probably. "Nah, course not. Come on. I'll have some too."

* * *

 


	4. 2x07 :: Sk8er Man ::

* * *

"This is not going to cut it. I need something else."

Danny throws a wad of cash on the table that way more than covers what Mindy ordered after she came back _and_ everyone's dinner from earlier. She'll give him that: Danny is a very generous tipper. "You literally just ate two dinners. How can you still be hungry?"

"Firstly, do not judge me. I can eat six dinners if I want and it would be smart on your part not to mention it. And secondly, I was relying on my dessert, which you just ate all of, to complete the meal. You know what? No, you can't even call this a meal. Three bites of what is mostly kale from the ocean is not a meal."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

Mindy puts on her coat and Danny takes her by the elbow, standing close and leading her out of the restaurant. "Ugh," she huffs and jerks on her arm in protest, not hard enough to shake his light grasp though, because honestly she likes it when he does that. She just wants him to know that _officially_ she doesn't approve.

They stop just outside the restaurant doors, the November wind bracing. "No. Okay, you're right. I'm starving. That really isn't enough food," he says. Mindy preens at him, then shivers. "You think that hot dog place by your apartment is still open?"

She nods, too cold to want to open her mouth and say yes.

"Come on, then." Danny moves to the street-side of the sidewalk and throws his arm tightly across her shoulders, blocking most of the wind. "It's seaweed or something, I think. On the sushi. Ocean kale isn't a thing."

* * *

"We should just start here," she murmurs around the chili cheese dog bite in her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Under the florescent lights Danny's skin looks more pale than it really is, his hair by contrast a perfect jet black.

"These stupid double dates we've been on. No matter the restaurant, the food is terrible."

"That fish place wasn't bad."

"No. But then your date wasn't the one that nearly choked to death on a fish bone that I had to Heimlich out of his throat."

"Good point. And that sushi was overpriced. I mean, twenty bucks for a tuna roll? Give me a break." Danny takes another bite of his dog, a dime-sized amount of mustard not making it in sticking to the corner of his mouth.

It's kinda cute but mostly gross and Mindy leans across the violently yellow plastic tabletop to swipe it away with her thumb. "Yeah. We should just forgo the first part and start here instead, the two of us."

Danny is staring at her in a strange way she doesn't quite understand while she runs the pad of her thumb through the mustard and then - _oh, shit._ When her skin meets his bottom lip she realizes that she is touching his mouth _and_ she basically just said that forget other people, _they_ should be dating. Oh, this - this is bad.

Mindy jerks her hand away and when she does he sucks in a deep breath. And then he starts chocking.

"Oh my god, not again!" Mindy starts to stand up, her Heimlich training still relatively fresh on her mind and ready to put into action, but Danny traps her arm against the table and is shaking his head violently. Finally he gasps the words, "I'm fine," and takes a sip of his soda, and Mindy starts to disengage from the sheer panic of Danny choking to death in front of her. He's breathing and able to swallow. He's fine.

"Don't do that to me!" She throws her balled-up paper napkins - really more chili than napkin at this point - at his head.

"To you? I'll try not to choke to death to spare you the trauma." He's trying to sound nonchalant, but the rasp in his voice and the tears in his eyes, his face a scary shade of red, completely undermine it.

Danny gulps some more of his drink and neither of them are really looking at the other, the awkwardness of what she didn't mean to imply settling over them again now that he's not actively dying. Mindy thinks that she shouldn't bring it up again and let them just finish dinner number three in uncomfortable silence then get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Except this is Danny, and she doesn't want to have that hanging over her head and not know if it's going to be weird the next time she wants to drag him to lunch with her. So she starts talking without having a clue in her head as to what she's going to say.

"I didn't mean before, when I said that I about skipping the other stuff and -"

"- No, yeah, I know. You don't have to -"

"All I meant was. . ." - - that it's always easier and better when it's just you and me - - "we should pick better restaurants."

"Right. Exactly. No more of these stupid fusion places with their dainty little portions."

"Well, I wouldn't really say that the fish place was fusion at all, and my plate was huge -" Danny's looking at her with giant, pleading eyes that say, 'would you just shut up and let this be the end of it'. "Huge _ly disappointing_ , I am right? It was the smallest platter of an entire fish I've ever seen. And did you see the Asian slaw on the menu?" She shakes a futile fist, "Take your gastronomy back to England, Gordon Ramsey!"

Danny's nodding with his palms outstretched like he couldn't agree more, like he has a fucking clue who Gordon Ramsey is, and it makes Mindy sad. Or something. More like oddly disappointed. Like they aren't two moderately reasonable adults who can actually have an honest moment about liking each others company in a platonic way.

She sighs, feeling tired all the sudden and not up to keeping the level of chipper pretense this is calling for. "You know, Danny. Honestly we should just date better people. That's why these things always suck. We just need to stay away from weirdos, and best friends who are clueless they're in love with each other. And I need to stick to my guns about being picky. It's okay not to be dating if the only viable guys are ones that are kinda sketchy and believe that mermaids are real."

"Yeah, you should. It's not a bad thing to have high standards."

"Okay, buddy, for the record, you were the one that told me I shouldn't be so uptight."

"Well. I was wrong. And I don't know why _now_ is the moment you've decided to listen to my usually very wise advice."

"Wise? Coming from the man who feel asleep kissing a crazy cat lady in waiting."

"That's valid. Point taken. Neither of us should be dolling out dating advice. Agreed?"

"Yeah. Agreed." He sticks out his hand she shakes it, making it official.

"Let's get outta here."

They stack their trays in the receptacle as they go, Danny opening the door for her and resuming his place by her side, blocking the wind, arm around her shoulders. A block and a half later they're at her building, Danny walking up the steps with her to stand while she unlocks the security door.

"You know, Danny. Horrible dates and tiny food not withstanding, I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too." Danny leans in and kisses her cheek softly. When he pulls away he's grinning in a way she knows means he's messing with her, and, yup, night's over.

"Okay. Keep it in your pants, Castellano."

"So, what? I'm not gonna get lucky?" He smirks even wider and she shoves him on the shoulder hard enough to make him take a step back and while he regains his balance she's slipping through the door, the latch clicking loudly when it closes.

"I bought you three dinners. Mindy!" He's yelling it loud enough to be heard through the door and her neighbors probably hate her right now and she has to bite down hard on her lip not to laugh.

* * *

Half an hour later she's lying in bed and picks up her phone on impulse. She texts him:

_You're such a freak._

And then two minutes later:

_And thanks for my dinners._

 


	5. 1x09 :: Josh and Mindy's Christmas Party ::

* * *

"Mindy. Mindy." She rounds the island, one hand sliding along the edge of the counter-top, in the other hand a near-empty champagne flute loose in her fingers, her body listing to the point he's afraid she's about to be a heap on the floor. And he's not picking her up again. " _Mindy._ Come on, we're going this way."

"This house is so beautiful, Danny. I wish we were tiny and we could live in it."

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Dr. C?" Morgan already has one foot literally out the door, the karaoke machine in hand. Ever since Shauna's cop boyfriend un-cuffed Heather and they all left, Morgan has lost interest in the party. Jeremy looks slightly more willing to stay behind, but he has Betsy snoring softly against his arm and Danny is pretty sure he's got enough drunk-co-worker on his hands.

"Nah, I got this. You guys go on. This will be -"

"You're so good at building houses. Can you really build houses, Danny? Are those skills trans-um, transferable?"

\- fine."

The three of them shuffle out the door, Betsy startling, and Danny sees Morgan help prop her up as the door closes behind them.

"Okay," he plucks the glass from Mindy as she finishes draining the last of its contents and maneuvers her by the arms towards the hallway.

" _Uhhhh_ , I ruined it, didn't I? _Dannnny,_ why am I so bad at Christmas parties? What is wrong with me?"

"No, it wasn't ruined. I mean, it wasn't great. Surprisingly violent, actually. But it could have been worse. You didn't even get that drunk."

"I am _really_ drunk, Danny."

"Yeah, but not nearly as drunk as last year."

"That's so nice. I am less drunker than last year. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Come on." There are probably a bunch of important steps he's bypassing - she really should probably brush her teeth, and he bets there's like a six-stage hair and makeup routine she does, but it's going to be a success if he can get her in bed without major incident, injury, or tears, so all of that is off the table.

Danny thinks briefly about helping her change clothes as they pass her closet, and - yeah, no. No. He's not helping her undress. No way.

"I'm sorry I ruined your night."

"What? You didn't ruin my night. It wasn't bad." Her feet trip on the edge of the bedroom rug and he clutches tighter to keep her upright.

"I ruined your date."

Oh. Well. That's not untrue, but, "So I had to cancel my date. We'll get together another time. If she doesn't understand me staying here with, ya know, everything . . going on, then that's not someone I really want to spend my time with."

"Yes. That's such a healthy view of relationships. You would never cheat on her, either. I know you wouldn't do that to her. You guys are so good together."

"Well, thanks, I guess. But you don't actually know her and we've only gone on two dates, so -"

"I'm never gonna meet anyone, Danny. I'm going to die alone." She sucks in a shaky breath. "No, that's not true. I'll continue to date strings of losers, just like Josh, I'll probably even marry a couple of 'em, and they'll all cheat on me." Mindy's veering into weepy territory, her eyes already welling, bottom lip protruding, and he needs to head this off _now_.

"All of my husbands will cheat. And we'll have a brood full of cheater children. Just cheating on tests and at board games because they can't help it, it's in their nature. And I'll die in a home, surrounded by a bunch of sad old people just like me, who spent their lives devoted to people who don't love them. They're going to take my fortune and leave me in a home, Danny."

"That won't happen. You'll never have that much money. And you'll die nice and regular, at a hospital in the city with some multiracial kid you adopted who loves you like crazy."

"You mean it?"

"Sure. Why not." Mindy's eyes are getting dreamy, like she's picturing what events will lead up to this, then her brow scrunches together, and he probably should have added something about the husband who'll grieve himself to death after her passing. He needs to change the subject fast.

"So that karaoke was something, huh. Who knew Jeremy can sing in Spanish?" She casts her eyes down and shrugs. "And you, you can cut a rug."

This earns him a small smile, and he should have lead with a compliment, clearly.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You're surprisingly light on your feet."

"Is that comment directed at my weight?" Her lip begins to tremble. And no, it was not.

"No! I mean it as a compliment. You're a good dancer. Easy to lead."

He catches the smile blooming on her face as she pushes up on her toes and threads her arms around his neck, tugging him down to her. Danny doesn't know what to do with his hands and decides to let them dangle, waiting out the hug. That isn't what she intended this to be though apparently, Mindy shifting jerkily back and forth a few times before he realizes she's attempting to dance with him.

"Okay, let's get you to bed." He tries tugging on her arms and she doesn't budge.

"One more dance, Danny. Please?" Her breath is warm against his neck, her voice so softly-pleading, and he stops trying to pull her away and instead bends his knees slightly, easing into the way she's embracing him.

Mindy sighs, her nose brushing the skin by his collar, and he smooths his hands across her back, swaying and shuffling his feet only enough to make this something other than a very, very long hug. It's kind of strange being so much taller than her. Without her shoes he's got a solid four inches on her. The last time he was that much taller than a dance partner was in junior high. It's kinda nice having to lean down a little. She fits neatly against him, his cheek resting easily against the top of her head. Her hair smells like lemons and some kind of spice, one that's particularly Christmas-y, like juniper or something.

A nameless melody crosses his mind, probably a song they heard tonight, and he considers humming it to give them something to go on, only -

Danny stops dancing and takes a step back. Mindy's feet stay planted and body follows him, leaving her tilted at a forty-five degree angle. He pulls her arms from around his neck then steadies her as she continues to sway, his hands wrapping around her elbows. Mindy opens her eyes and they are glassy and unfocused, except - No. They're focused. She's looking at his mouth.

He does actually consider kissing her. Briefly. Like, for less than a second. Then he remembers that even if this wasn't _Mindy_ in his arms he would never cross that line with a woman this drunk. And really he's only thinking it because she smells nice and her breasts were just pressed against him and he's had, clearly, way more champagne than he must have realized.

She closes her eyes again and she may have just fallen asleep. Danny walks her back the two steps to the bed and eases her down on the mattress. She lets him pull her legs up and he jerks on the covers where she's lying on them to be able to cover her up.

Danny runs through how this is going to go for her in the morning. He grabs a glass of water and a couple Excedrin and leaves them on the nightstand. And, on second thought, he places the box of tissues from the bathroom on the nightstand too.

She looks peaceful, and before he goes he bends to drop a kiss on her forehead. And - yeah, okay, he must have had _way_ more to drink tonight than he thought.

* * *

 


	6. :: Season One Hiatus ::

"What's that?" Christina runs her hand through his hair, thumb skimming the skin of his neck as she passes. She's glistening with sweat from her run, her body looking sleek and tight in her all black workout clothes.

Danny jiggles the pen in his right hand and picks up his still steaming coffee mug off the counter with his left. "It's a letter to Mindy."

"Why? what's going on?"

"Um, nothing. Just keeping in touch."

"Oh." She turns away, her shoulders tightening, only a little, and slowly picks up a mug and fills it.

Danny narrows his eyes and thinks about not pressing it. She doesn't turn around, keeping her back to him and blowing into her cup.

He drops the pen and scoots back on the bar stool. "What?"

Christina tips her shoulder up in a half shrug and turns, her face open. "I didn't realize you had been corresponding. She writes to you?"

There is a slightly sick feeling forming in the bottom of his stomach at the thought of what she may be implying. Danny sets his jaw and does his best not to sound defensive, meeting her gaze squarely so she can see he's not evading. "Yeah. Every week since she's been gone."

Her eyes widen slightly. "Oh."

Danny sets his coffee down and runs his palms across the top of his sweat-pant clad thighs, preparing for the fight.

"That's really nice." He blinks at her, Christina's even features painted with a wistful smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mindy's doing an incredible thing, the work that she's doing in Haiti. It's kind of you to keep in touch about things here. I'm sure it means a lot to her."

"Right. Yeah."

Christina rounds the bar and places a coffee mug-warmed hand on his face and leans in to kiss him.

"I'm going to take a shower."

Danny sits there in their quiet kitchen in New Jersey, and it takes him a few minutes to pick up the pen again. Suddenly he's unsure what to write.

* * *

It bothers him. Because Christina was telling the truth and is right: it is a nice thing that two friends and colleagues stay in contact when one of them is away making a difference in a place where it is needed most. Only Danny didn't imagine Christina's initial reaction - it was surprise, sure, and it was at least a little bit jealousy too.

And it bothers him.

Did Christina think, even for a moment, that he and Mindy might be exchanging - what? - some kind of dopey love letters or something? It's ridiculous. What would that even be like?

He can't imagine it. Clearly there is nothing untoward about them writing to each other when he can't think of a single suggestive or inappropriate thing to say to the woman.

Still. It bothers him.

* * *

He sees her unopened letter slipped under a stack of other papers, the colorful stamp sticking out like a flag, just as he slips his messenger bag over his shoulder, about to walk out the door with the guys. Jeremy and Morgan are already by the elevator waiting for him. Danny snatches the envelope and shoves it into the front pocket of his bag, hitting the light on the way out.

Three hours and a half a dozen drinks later, Danny is - admittedly, a little drunk - on the late train back to Jersey and free to do what's been on the back of his mind all night. He runs his thumb under the flap of paper and is pleased to find tucked inside three, albeit small, pages of script, front and back.

Mindy writes to him about the patients she'd seen that week and how the progress is going on the hospital. She tells him about the book she's reading since there's no TV, which is listed as #3 on the list of things she misses in Haiti, after #1: no real showers, and #2: no wine. (Missing everyone back home does place 4th on the list, so that's something.) She thanks him for his contribution to the care package the office sent, noting that the produce from the local market there is amazing and that she would gladly never have a piece of real fruit again in her life if she could keep a steady supply of fruit roll-ups. Finally Mindy tells him about how two nights ago the sky was so clear there and shockingly navy blue that you could see a billion more stars than she ever knew were in the heavens. And that she thinks he would like that; how the vastness pins you in place and keeps you from thinking about wanting to run away.

Danny folds the letter gently and tucks it inside the inner pocket of his coat, making a mental note to remember it's there and to make sure he puts in the rubber-banded stack in his bottom desk drawer at the office with the others.

Several weeks ago after a late night catching up on paperwork, the rooms all dark except for the safety lights and his desk lamp, Danny was feeling lonely and pulled the short stack of pages out of the drawer and re-read them all.

Only now does it occur to him that it was strange to have felt lonely; Christina had been waiting up for him that night.

Danny continues to write normally, not censoring a regular word of correspondence to Mindy. Still, he proof reads every letter through Christina's eyes now, wondering what his words would sound like if she read them. They are beyond reproach. He alters nothing.

He never has to change anything because he would never say sometimes he finds himself looking at the same stars she is, only a little dimmer, and how it makes him feel closer to her. He would never say the words, _I miss you_.


	7. 2x02 :: The Other Dr. L ::

 

* * *

She chalks it up to his issues with cheating and the fact that even if he and Casey aren't friends he respects the man because he's a minister. That's the only reason Mindy doesn't take Danny to task for _almost_ calling her a slut. That and watching his face fall pitifully, his eyes looking like an kicked puppy when it sinks in that Paul really did have sex with Christina last night - in his own apartment at that - before shutting it down and sucker punching stupid Paul's beautiful face.   
  
It's after Mindy goes all the way to the YMCA - which smells _terrible_ , by the way - and pulls him off the basketball court, dragging him back to the office, that she really notices Danny's more broody than usual and favoring his right hand, the knuckles there a livid red.   
  
"Come on, we're going."   
  
"What? You just dragged me back here." Mindy rounds his desk and tugs on his arm, lifting him out of the chair.  
  
"And now we're going. Our work here is done. Paul's leaving, like the weird, hot drifter that he is -"  
  
"- I don't think he's a drifter."  
  
"- and everything is going back to the way it should be. Let's go. Come on."  
  
No one in the office says a word or tries to stop them as they make their way to the elevator and she doesn't let go of his arm until they're halfway to his apartment.    
  
"I don't really want to do this right now, okay?" He's glancing up at his building with a look on his face like they're on top of the Empire State Building and she's telling him to jump. "I'm just going to go back to -"  
  
"No, Danny. We're doing it now." His eyes flick to her face at the word 'we' and she puts her hand back on his arm. He takes a deep breath and looks up a his fourth floor windows and nods.   
  


* * *

  
  
"Where is your first aid kit, Danny? And don't tell me you don't have one. You're a doctor. You should know better than that."  
  
She pops up from where she's squatting by the island, every one of his cabinets riffled through and nary a band-aid or suture kit found. (One of the perks of being a doctor is all the free gauze, suture kits and latex gloves you want. Her accident proneness is adorable, and she likes to be prepared. Also, playing doctor is the best.)  
  
"Well," Danny takes her by the forearms and maneuvers her towards the living room, "I'm normal, so I don't keep my first aid kit in my kitchen."   
  
"Wha - I don't understand why you say stuff like that. When's the last time you accidentally caught yourself on fire in your bathroom?"  
  
"I don't think - wait, how often do you catch yourself on fire in your kitchen?"  
  
Mindy shrugs, the exact number eluding her, but she does remember specifically the last time. "Fondue is surprisingly hard."  
  
"Huh."   
  
She trails after him into the bathroom and watches him pull the white, rectangular box from under the vanity. Who would ever need that there? " _'Huh'_ what?"  
  
Danny shrugs and walks back through his bedroom into the living area. "You might have a point. I nick myself cooking all the time."  
  
Mindy beams. "Exactly! Most dangerous room in anyone's house."  
  
He places the kit by the kitchen sink and starts taking out the square cotton swabs and tiny bottle of peroxide. "Here." Mindy takes everything from him before he can start using it. "Let me."  
  
And he does, which really surprises Mindy. He doesn't make some gruff macho comment about being able to do it himself or tell some bogus story about doing his own stitches after a made-up fight. Danny just silently lets her take his hand in hers and start working. His knuckles aren't really bad, just raw and bruised with a couple shallow cuts. Cuts from where the taught skin of his fist made contact with Paul's teeth and bone. It's kinda hot.    
  
No. It's not hot. Mindy shakes her head trying to dislodge the sudden imagine of Danny, all intense and manly, defending her against some faceless aggressor. And no, that's not hot. It's barbarism. Danny is _not_ hot.  
  
"What?"   
  
She looks up and finds his eyes, surprisingly close and boring into hers, all warm and the color of chocolate. And she thinks, suddenly a little afraid, that she might be looking back at him with the same expression she has on her face when looking at actual chocolate - like something she's about to happily devour.   
  
Mindy shifts a tiny step back.   
  
"Um," she says, her voice sounding terribly soft and out of breath. "Nothing."   
  
She hastily looks away, grabbing the disinfectant and trying to finish as fast she can, acutely aware of the way his fingers are wrapped around her wrist where she holds his right hand steady with her left.  
  
"There." She lets him go, her fingers feeling cold once she does. "I don't think you'll need a band-aid."   
  
"Nah." Danny flexes his hand, wincing only a little, the goopy cream on his knuckles making them glisten. "Thanks."   
  
Mindy nods and cleans up the mess, placing the first aid kit under the sink. She rubs her hands together - it's time to get to work. "Now we cleanse your apartment."  
  


* * *

  
  
It doesn't take any convincing on her part to get him on board with What Must Be Done after situations like this; because this is what you _do_ when this happens. They strip the bed quickly and Mindy carries the linens into the bathroom while Danny drags the kitchen trash can in and produces, from somewhere, a bottle lighter fluid and a stick-lighter. Psycho.  
  
They are somber when the fire starts and Danny doesn't comment on all the rituals that go along with cleansing things. He just does what she says and doesn't make fun of her once, which is the same as agreeing that this is the most reasonable course of action possible in Mindy's opinion.  
  
Eventually, as things start to really burn, the elastic in the fitted sheet starting to melt, Danny begins fidgeting.   
  
"I'm sorry I almost called you a - a - you know. You're not. One."  
  
"Yeah. I know I'm not." It sounds defensive, but she doesn't mean it that way. She has nothing she needs to defend and no one she feels the need to answer to. "I am glad that you don't think that, though."   
  
"I don't. And you may be a lot of things, but you're not a cheater." Mindy looks up at him and he's got that goofy lopsided grin on his face, only it looks a lot more painful than a smile.   
  
"Danny," she puts a hand on his arm, wanting to soften some of that pain. The fire in front of them is making her face hot. "What happened with Christina, it -"  
  
"Nah, Mindy. Don't. We don't need to talk about this."  
  
"It might help."  
  
"It doesn't -" he puffs out his lips, exhaling a breath in a huff. "I don't need help. I'm good."  
  
"Come on, Danny. You don't have to hide your brokenness from me. I don't judge you just because you've been left a shell of a man with an inability to love."  
  
He smiles for real this time, the one with his whole mouth that makes it all the way up to the crinkles by his eyes. "Yeah, alright. Thanks for the pep talk, Min. You're really good at this."  
  
"Well, you don't have to be sarcastic." Mindy takes her hand off his arm, not feeling nearly as sympathetic anymore.   
  
"Look. I mean it. It - yeah, it sucks that Christina slept with Paul. I hate it. And in _my bed_ , that is an especially twisted thing. But it doesn't matter. Christina and I aren't together. And that is a good thing. We should never have gotten back together in the first place." He swallows and does that thing where he pauses intensely.   
  
"I'm not in love with her anymore."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. And you were right. If she slept with Paul to hurt me clearly I'm more over her than she's over me. It's kinda nice to be the one moving on."  
  
"That is surprisingly healthy, Danny. Especially coming from a man who keeps a giant bottle of lighter fluid in his apartment for some reason and doesn't own a grill."  
  
"Come 'ere." He crooks his elbow around her neck and pulls her in for a hug.   
  
Mindy hugs him back and doesn't feel anything other than relief that her friend is going to be okay. They're going to be okay, too.   
  
It really is hot in here. She opens her eyes and the contained fire is suddenly licking close enough to the ceiling it's starting to singe.   
  
"Oh, god, Danny! I was wrong! Go. Go get the first aid kit out of the kitchen!" She shoves his shoulders and his feet tangle before breaking into a sprint.   
  
"I'm getting the fire extinguisher!"   
  
"That too!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was convinced for a very long time that Mindy keeping her first aid kit in the kitchen was canon. However, upon rewatches I have yet to see a mention of that. So either I made it up, am not paying close enough attention, or, most likely, I read it in a fic and made it headcanon. If anyone knows of another story in which that appears please let me know. I would love to read it again and also give credit where it is due. Thanks!


End file.
